


Boys Don't Make Passes At Girls Who Wear Glasses

by everyl1ttleth1ng



Series: The Flying Haggis [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Fitzsimmons Week, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:24:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyl1ttleth1ng/pseuds/everyl1ttleth1ng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Domestic!FitzSimmons in which Avenger!Skye comes over for dinner with the family of five (!) in their London home and Mid-Thirties!Jemma has just picked up her first pair of specs. She is consequently feeling her age. </p><p>FitzSimmons Week Day 1 Prompt - Family</p><p>This is technically a sequel to "The Flying Haggis: FitzSimmons' Adventures in the Campervan of Awesome" but you can totally read it on its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys Don't Make Passes At Girls Who Wear Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> For the mysterious “SS” who liked the forerunner that sets up this AU (“The Flying Haggis: FitzSimmons’ Adventures in the Campervan of Awesome”) and made a fun suggestion for a sequel that happened to nicely combine with a pre-existing idea of mine.
> 
> AND THEN it turns out that the prompt for Day 1 of FitzSimmons Week 2015 is “Family”!
> 
> If you haven’t read “The Flying Haggis”, it probably won’t hurt, but if you like fluff it’s pretty much a fluff marathon…

The rare days that neither of them were called upon to help save the world, Fitz and Jemma fell into a delicious routine. After Marie, Eddie and Peggy bounced under the covers with their parents, waking them up with the affection of their sweet kisses and the force of their bony elbows and knees, Fitz eventually stumbled downstairs, prepared a tray-full of bed-friendly breakfast and a pot of tea and the family ate together.

With a piece of toast in one hand, Fitz tipped the basket of clean washing all over the end of the bed and sorted through it until he unearthed a passable shirt, jeans and cardigan for himself. Struggling into his clothes, he then made the older children giggle by flicking the relevant bits of school uniform across the room at them.

This morning Jemma was on school lunches. With a deft hand she threw nutritionally-balanced sandwiches and snacks into the compartments of three lunchboxes, navigating school allergy-policy and individual likes and dislikes with practiced ease.

She bundled the backpacks onto each small back and after three squeezy cuddles from the kids and a lingering kiss from her husband that eloquently said _Don’t you go anywhere_ , Jemma waved them off at the front door.

She smiled to herself as she poured her third cup of tea and made her way back upstairs. These days were too few and far between but she knew exactly how they went.

Jemma tucked herself into the little window seat that had sold the attic bedroom to her in their whirlwind London house-hunt years before. Up here, they felt like The Swiss Family Robinson, surrounded so entirely by leafy branches that they almost couldn’t see the street below. But Jemma knew what to watch out for.

She rubbed at her eyes as she drained her last sip of tea. Today was the day. Spectacles.

Secretly she’d always wanted glasses, and the frames she’d chosen made her feel very hip. But it was sort of a milestone. She wasn’t sure that the words _nubile young prodigy_ rang quite as true as they used to.

Well, at least she probably still had above-average fashion sense…

She stood to unlatch the large windows, letting the sunlight and the warm summer air stream into their bedroom. Turning, she saw their large bed bathed in light. _Perfect._ But first she had to get all that clean washing out of the way.

She smiled to herself as she caught a snatch of Fitz’s tell-tale whistling from the street below.

Jemma moved slowly, slipping off her silk robe and carefully laying it over the back of a chair. The timing of this routine had been long-perfected.

She padded down the hall to the large family bathroom, closing the door and gently nudging Ironman undies and plastic bath toys out of the way with her foot.

She heard the front door being pulled to.

Stepping into their large shower Jemma turned on the taps. Hot water gushed over her outstretched hand and she took a second to ensure the temperature was just right before ducking under the stream. She always had just a moment to soak her hair.

As if on cue, the bathroom door opened. Fitz had already discarded his cardigan and shirt somewhere on the stairs and she knew from experience that they’d stumble over the shoes he’d hurriedly kicked off as they made their way back to the bedroom later.

She watched him appreciatively as he undid the button of his jeans and slid them down his legs, his eyes not leaving hers.

“Jem, you are a _goddess_ ,” he whispered, straightening up and stepping under the hot water with her, his hands immediately splaying across her warm wet skin and pulling her close.

She gave a pleased laughed against his lips. Jemma loved the reverence that still came into Fitz’s eyes every single time he got access to her naked form. She was conscious that it had rewritten whatever insecurities she might once have felt about her body into an easy confidence. Ten years of his friendship followed by almost fifteen years now of his unfettered adoration. The steady stream of heartfelt endearments that were part of this amazing package freed her to value nothing more than his good opinion.

And Fitz’s opinions of Jemma were _all_ good. He stroked the silver stretchmarks dotted across her now-soft belly and made sure to place a gentle kiss on her caesarean scar (through which Eddie had made his slightly more dramatic entrance) on his travels elsewhere. Jemma threw her head back and grasped at the wall, the other hand tangling through Fitz’s curls.

Every shared shower ended with them resolving to finally do something about their too-small hot water heater and vigorously towelling the cold water off one another before Fitz gently grabbed both Jemma’s hands and walking backwards, his grin suggestive, pulled her with him down the hallway towards their bedroom.

As she’d predicted, caught up in kisses, they stumbled, laughing, over Fitz’s shoes and staggered at last into their bedroom.

Fitz smiled. What was a little cold water when he could lay his perfect wife down on their sun-drenched bed and resume the activity that made Jemma shout his name so loud he sometimes wondered what the neighbours must think. The breeze blew against the droplets of water on his back, a sharp counterpoint to Jemma’s hot hands at the back of his neck.

_How on earth did this get to be his life?_

When they’d taken their kids to go and see the most recent _Cinderella_ at the movies, he and Jemma had rolled their eyes at how many times the kids had been clonked over the head with the moral of the story. But later that night, when he’d taken his usual opportunity to marvel over the wonders of the woman in his arms, Jemma stopped him short.

“Look at me,” he’d said, gesturing towards his pale skin and his wiry build. “And look at you,” he’d breathed, running his hands admiringly over his wife’s soft curves. “I saw Cap checking you out once, you know,” he’d whispered. “And I’m pretty sure I caught Thor at it too. Who could blame him?”

“Captain America and Thor?” Jemma had scoffed. “They are _so_ not my type.”

“Well, if even in the face of all that stature, breeding and muscle tone, your taste runs to pasty, stubbly, weedy, diminutive Scottish men,” Fitz had shrugged delightedly. “Who am I to argue?”

Jemma had grabbed him then, both hands on his face, forcing him to meet her eye.

“My taste, Fitz, runs to wonderful, heroic, sexy, Scottish geniuses,” she’d replied. “You are _good_ , Fitz. So deeply and perfectly good. And you’re all I want.”

He’d grinned. “Have courage and be kind? Probably good the movie told them that about fourteen times. Now they know how to get themselves a spouse as good as their old Da’.”

Jemma had kissed him sweetly and then pulled back to look seriously into his eyes. “If our three go on to find spouses half as good as _their old Da’_ they’ll be sitting pretty.”

“ _Terrible_ accent, Jemma.”

“Oh, do shut up and kiss me.”

Now, just as then, he was willing to do whatever made her happy, and judging by the little gasps she was emitting he was well on the road to success.

\---

Hours later, watching Fitz pottering around their bedroom trying to find her some clean clothes, Jemma stretched luxuriously and checked the time.

“Ooh, Fitz. Remind me that I have to get to the optometrist at one.”

“Right,” he nodded. “What’s the time now?”

“Almost twelve,” she replied, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and getting to her feet.

“Morning well spent, then?” Fitz chuckled, taking a last opportunity to pull her into his arms without the encumbrance of clothing.

“Mmmm,” Jemma sighed happily. “We need days like this more often.”

“I know,” Fitz laughed. “On Saturday when the kids were _supposed_ to be enthralled in front of the telly, I’m sure Marie nearly caught us in the act.”

“Sorry,” she chuckled in reply. “I was sure I’d selected _Play All_!”

“Easy mistake to make,” Fitz allowed. “But we’d better try not to traumatise our children too much.”

“Which just proves my point. We need more days like this.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” he replied, reluctantly letting her slip out of his arms to get dressed. “You just need to convince whoever it is that causes the dramas we get called in to consult on.”

“Stupid alien races,” Jemma grumbled prettily. “No respect for working parents’ needs.”

\---

Jemma and Fitz lingered over their coffee, enjoying the dying moments of their rare alone-time before the rush of pre-school and school pick-up.

She was fiddling with her new tortoise-shell spectacles, trying to get used to the rims in her peripheral vision.

Fitz just gazed at her, leaning back in his chair contentedly.

“Jem,” he said quietly, “I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow you look even better in those specs.”

“Says the man who admires me in my pyjamas,” Jemma scoffed mildly.

“What can I say?” Fitz shrugged, laughter playing around his blue eyes. “I’ve always found saggy flannel irresistible, as long as it's on you.”

Jemma rolled her eyes affectionately as she got to her feet.

“So, have we got everything we need for tonight?”

Fitz glanced down at the shopping bags around his feet. “I think we have enough Doritos and sparkling shiraz to satisfy even Skye.”

Jemma leant over to pick up a couple of bags, placing a quick kiss on the back of Fitz’s neck as she did so.

He grinned up at her, then got to his feet, pulling out his wallet to pay for their lunch.

\---

After Peggy crowed with delight seeing both Mummy and Daddy arriving to pick her up from preschool, the three of them wandered across the road to fetch Marie and Eddie. Fitz carried the shopping and Jemma held Peggy in her arms while the little girl tried to make sense of Mummy with glasses on.

Arriving in the playground, Peggy wriggled out of her mother’s arms to impatiently press her face against the window of Eddie’s classroom.

Fitz and Jemma greeted the other parents they’d gotten to know over years of mutual standing around waiting for children.

“Look at your new specs!” cried Julie, mum of one of Marie’s friends. “You look great!”

“Really?” asked Jemma, battling with a deep sense that she should take them off like sunglasses to talk to people.

“Really,” Julie confirmed. “What do you think, Fitz?”

Fitz laughed. “I’ve been punching above my weight for years.” He nudged Jemma affectionately. “I’ve never once seen her look anything other than perfect.”

The bell rang and Eddie came zooming out of his classroom yammering to Fitz about some electronics project he was planning for when they got home.

“It’s lucky Fitz adores you, you know,” Julie muttered, shaking her head. “You know what they say; _Boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses._ ”

Jemma laughed at the ridiculous sentiment until Marie skipped over, hand-in-hand with Julie’s daughter, Frankie, hassling for a play-date as usual.

“Not today, Sweets,” Fitz said gently. “Remember Skye’s arriving this afternoon.”

“Auntie Skye!” Eddie started shouting, jumping up and down, and was immediately joined by his two sisters, the play with Frankie forgotten for the day.

\---

When the doorbell finally rang, Skye was nearly flattened by the three FitzSimmons children all clamouring for cuddles.

Marie proudly showed Skye her Quake action figurine in pride of place beside her plastic colleagues.

Skye held the doll up next to her head. “Do you think I really look like this?” she asked Marie and Peggy who nodded eagerly.

“I think you look even _more_ badass than that!” Eddie shouted over the top of his sisters.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Skye laughed. “Though perhaps talk to your mom about that language.”

She shook her head as Jemma caught her in an embrace.

“Can you imagine what Steve would say if he’d heard that?”

Jemma looked both amused and guilty. “I don’t even know if he learnt that in the playground or from Fitz.”

“Speaking of…” Skye looked around.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Fitz called, thundering down the stairs to grab their friend into a huge hug. “Sorry, I was just making up your bed. How was your flight?”

“The flight was fine,” Skye replied. “I had a good book. But the lunchtime meeting at Scotland Yard had me wanting to bring the building down.”

“I don’t think anyone would particularly mind,” Fitz chuckled. “As long as it’s New Scotland Yard we’re talking about. What an eyesore.”

“Auntie Thkye,” lisped Peggy. “Can you come out-thide and make thome little earthquaketh in the thandpit with me?”

“Oh, of course, sweetie,” Skye cooed, letting Peggy tug her out towards the back garden. “As long as your mom pours me a glass of that sparkling red for when I get back inside.”

“Consider it done,” Fitz called after them, popping the cork while Jemma fetched some wine glasses.

They carried the wine out to the garden where Skye was amazing their kids with elaborate sand fountains.

“Thank you,” Skye sighed, getting to her feet and taking the glass Fitz offered her, the sand still moving in ways that mesmerised the children.

“So Jem, I’d say the glasses make you look smarter but that feels kind of redundant,” Skye observed, knocking back a swig of the wine. “What do you think of Mommy’s specs, kids?”

“I think she looks _beautiful_ ,” said Marie loyally with Peggy nodding wide-eyed behind her. “And a bit like Mrs Saunders who taught me last year.”

“Mrs Saunders is about a hundred years old,” Jemma muttered under her breath, causing Skye to dissolve into giggles.

“I think she looks like she could have laser vision,” Eddie cried, pulling some sort of ninja-inspired pose. “Maybe you could get her a cool job with the Avengers?”

“A cool job?” Jemma repeated incredulously. “Don’t you think Daddy and I already have cool jobs?”

Eddie fixed her with a look. “Mum, you are nowhere _near_ as cool as Auntie Skye!”

Skye shrugged innocently at Jemma and then tackled a delighted Eddie into a cuddle.

“I think she lookth like a _real_ grown-up,” Peggy added, grabbing her mummy around the legs and squeezing tight.

“About time, hey Jem?” Skye asked playfully from the ground where Eddie had her pinned down. “After all these carefree years of shrugging off your responsibilities, at last you’re a _real_ grown-up.”

Jemma sighed heavily. “At last.”

Fitz had wandered back into the kitchen to get dinner started so they gradually gravitated after him.

“Nachos!” Skye cried when she saw the tell-tale piles of corn chips. “My favourite!”

“We alwayth have nachoth with you, Auntie Thkye,” Peggy observed astutely, stealing a chip off the nearest plate.

“That’s because your parents know me really, really well,” Skye replied, winking at Fitz and pouring them each another glass.

Fitz held up his glass to clink against Skye and Jemma’s and all the kids insisted on joining in until there was significantly more juice on the floor than in their glasses.

“Tell us about the Avengers!” Marie urged, and her brother and sister hunkered down on either side of her ready to be regaled.

Skye laughed. “It’s kind of top secret, you know.”

“But you can thay thtuff to _uth_ ,” Peggy replied solemnly, Fitz’s blue eyes gazing out from her tiny face. “ _We_ won’t tell.”

“Okay,” Skye huffed as if she were really giving in. “Well, I have some things to tell Mommy later about Captain Rogers,” she waggled her eyebrows unmistakeably, “But want to hear about Mr Stark’s latest wacky idea?”

“Yeeeeeeaah!” cried the kids, and Skye had them in stitches for the rest of the meal.

\---

When Peggy’s head was just about to make contact with her plate, Fitz called “Bedtime, kids! Say goodnight to Mummy and Auntie Skye.”

Marie and Eddie groaned but cheered up the minute Skye told them she’d take them for a milkshake in the morning and make sure they were at least five minutes late to school. Eddie whooped but Marie looked concerned.

“Okay, how’s two minutes late?” Skye negotiated in an attempt to appease her anxiety.

“I suppose they won’t have started Maths if I’m only _two_ minutes late,” Marie nodded.

“You are your mother’s daughter, Marie,” Skye laughed, kissing her on the forehead.

“Of _course_ I am,” the little girl replied seriously. “I gained half of my DNA from her at conception.”

“Yes,” Skye nodded, desperately trying not to laugh at the precious Jemma Mini-Me before her. “Yes, you did. Now off to bed, Marie.”

Fitz herded the two older kids up the stairs but had to carry Peggy whose blonde curls tumbled over his shoulder.

“Alright,” Jemma sighed, plonking herself down next to Skye and pouring them both another glass. “What’s the latest with Steve!”

Skye shook her head. “Well, I don’t need to tell you that he is the _sweetest_ guy.”

“How’s the age difference?” Jemma asked and Skye thumped her head onto the table.

“Impossible!”

“I guess he _is_ in his nineties,” Jemma replied sympathetically.

“The fact that he’s ninety is of no consequence to me,” Skye insisted. “Have you seen the state of his butt? It’s impeccable! The _issue_ is that he spent his formative years learning how to date from pre- _Leave It To Beaver_ -era America, if you know what I mean.”

Jemma laughed. “Is he moving a little too slowly for your liking?”

“Too slowly?” cried Skye. “He hasn’t even kissed me yet!”

Jemma laughed. “Remember it took Fitz and I ten years.”

“Yeah, but at least you started when you were kids. I’m no spring chicken and he’s nearly batted a century!”

Jemma clapped her hands. “Oh Skye, Fitz _will_ be proud when he hears you using cricket metaphors.”

Skye rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you’re taking me seriously, Simmons. We’re on our way towards forty!”

Later, Jemma wouldn’t be able to say quite what it was that tipped her over the edge. Perhaps it was the emotion of finally seeing Skye after so long, perhaps it was the several glasses of wine or the fact that her friend was dating a man who’d been frozen in ice for seventy years. Perhaps it was the mention of the looming 4 – 0. Or perhaps it was the new glasses.

Either way, Jemma burst into tears, gabbling something about boys and passes.

“What on earth are you talking about, Simmons?” Skye cried, wrapping her arms around her sobbing friend.

“I’m not a nubile young prodigy anymore, Skye!” Jemma wailed. “And I don’t even know what’s fashionable! Who has time to read rubbish magazines?”

Skye laughed gently. “You’re talking to a girl who spends most of her life in tac gear, Jem. As far as I know you could’ve just stepped off the catwalk.” She rubbed soothing circles over her friend’s back. “And as for not being a nubile young prodigy, isn’t it way more awesome to be a gazillionaire consulting genius who joins forces with her similarly genius husband to save the world every now and again?”

Jemma exploded into a fresh burst of wailing. “Eddie thinks you’re cooler than me!”

Skye fixed Jemma with the same look that Eddie had given her earlier. “Jemma, of course I’m cooler than you. Isn’t that what’s lurked at the heart of the rivalry between SciTech and Operations all this time?”

Jemma nodded weakly.

“Anyway, don’t set the bar at Avenger-level-cool, Jem. That’s not going to work for anyone.”

Jemma shrugged sniffling. “I suppose you're right.”

“And Fitz still looks at you like he wants to rip your clothes off all the time.”

Skye suddenly looked serious. “Everything is okay with you and Fitz, right?”

Jemma’s responding smile through her tears was so sincere, she quickly eliminated Skye’s sudden doubt.

“Phew!” Skye sighed. “Then get some perspective! I’ve been dating a guy who has bought me like four hundred different species of flowers but is still too chivalrous to kiss me!” Her eyes suddenly narrowed mischievously. “Allow me to totally intrude on your privacy for a moment. When did you and Fitz last put on some Barry White?”

Jemma wiped her face, unable to hide her sheepish expression.

“It was this morning, wasn’t it,” Skye huffed. “I knew it.” Her hands suddenly shot off the kitchen table. “Ugh! It was right here, wasn’t it!”

Jemma laughed and shook her head.

“Phew!” Skye sighed. “Because, I don’t know, that’s probably unsanitary or something.”

Fitz chose that moment to re-appear. “What are you screeching about, Skye?” he asked, unable to hide his amusement. “Your nieces and nephew are _trying_ to get some sleep.”

Skye smiled. She loved that Fitz and Jemma had never even qualified her auntie status with an “honorary.”

Fitz looked at his wife and immediately saw the tracks of her tears. “Jem?” he asked quietly, sitting down next to her and sliding his arm around her waist. “Are you alright?”

Jemma rested her head on Fitz’s shoulder and nodded. “Just having a minor mid-life crisis,” she laughed, adjusting her new specs. “Whereas look at you, still looking just like the twenty-six-year-old I married.”

Fitz thought of a memory he could dredge up but, taking one look at his wife’s tear-stained face, thought better of it.

“Jemma, _you_ look like the twenty-six-year-old _I_ married. You just have specs now. And they’re _hot_.”

Jemma raised a sultry eyebrow at Fitz that prompted Skye to interject.

“Okay, I’m just going to stop this in its tracks in case you guys decide you have to rush upstairs suddenly and leave me all alone.”

She clambered out of her seat and ushered them apart, plonking herself down between them.

“I’m instituting a twelve-inch rule,” she announced. “That’s better.”

She caught the _Later_ look that flashed between her two friends.

“Don’t worry, Fitz,” Skye patted his knee condescendingly. “I’m pretty jet-lagged. One more bottle of wine and _then_ you can take your wife to bed.”

Fitz gave an exaggerated shrug. “Don’t look at me, Skye. _She’s_ always the one dragging _me_ off to bed.”

“Ding!” Skye called. “No more talk about your love life. You guys are my family but there’s only so much I need to know.”

“And to think,” Jemma laughed. “You used to be all about the information.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!! Please let me know what you thought! 
> 
> (Note that this is the closest I have ever gotten to writing actual smut. I know it's not *very* close, but it'll probably be as close as I get!)
> 
> If you liked this one, you may like the prequel to this - "The Flying Haggis" which I have migrated across to AO3 so it shouldn't be too hard to find. It's canon-compliant up to "What They Become" in Season Two.
> 
> Also, I finished "A Moment of Weakness" today so go read Ch 4 of that if you feel so inclined!


End file.
